"I'm sitting in a room with my books, and I'm locked in to my study pattern so deep I can't see the doors. I have a test tomorrow, and I don't feel ready. I collapse and fall asleep. The walls are now covered in words, blocks of text that shift and warp as I try to read them. A breath to regain composure, sharpness of vision, and the walls begin to move in on me. I try to push the words away but they slip beneath my fingers and I'm not strong enough to move them. I'm being pushed harder now, between the walls, and I struggle to stay up, but the pressure is too much and it's beginning to hurt my arms. I fall down, trying to delay what's coming, and try to form my screams into the words I can see.

I wake up, feeling bruised, panicking that I've missed the test. It's been like this for a few months. I need something to help me, some sleeping tablets, or a tranquilliser, I'm getting desperate, I need to pass this exam, I can't even think about what will happen if I fail, I just... help me... please"

A raised eyebrow and the scratch of pencil on paper. Framed degree certificates dotted around the room. All just so many words.

"But you have already passed the test. It was yesterday."

No. Impossible. Crashing waves of relief...

"When I count to three, you shall awake..."

*

Stuck in a room, words scrawled all over the walls, many of them smudged or written over.